


Stories Best Told by Starlight

by Bastetmoon



Series: Tales of Greenwood the Great [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Young Legolas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3429869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastetmoon/pseuds/Bastetmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While his wife is away Thranduil must care for Legolas, the young prince is nothing if not a handful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stories Best Told by Starlight

When Lerethiel had brought the precocious child into the study Thranduil had realized he would have no peace for the rest of the day. On stubby leg’s, the toddler stumbled forward, promptly knocking over a low lying shelf of scrolls.

“Ada!” Legolas cried, tottering forward to grasp at his father’s robe. Gently Thranduil lifted the little prince into his lap and looked up at his wife. She looked tired, as she so often did. It worried him more than he cared to admit. But her smile was warm. With deft movements she gathered up the scrolls, setting them upon a table well out of reach of their son.

  
“To what do I owe the honor of a visit from my queen and prince?” He had an idea already formed, but he waited to hear it from her.  
“I have need to visit my family and Legolas missed his father. You have been so busy these last months.” It was not an accusation but still his heart panged painfully.

  
“Running a realm is not easy.” Even so many years after Dagorlad he was still not accustomed to being without his father’s guidance and of the late the forest had grown darker and more troubling.

  
“Luckily you do not need to manage it alone. Leave off your duties for this evening and guard our son for me.” There were nurses for that surely, but Lerethiel l had never liked leaving the care of her treasure to others and Thranduil humored her in this above all things. Their son was nothing if not to be treasured.

  
“Very well, I believe the prince and I shall survive until you return.” The prince himself was looking up at his parents with wide grey eyes, the picture of innocence. Thranduil was not fooled, the little demon could turn the study into a disaster zone if left for more than a handful of minutes.

  
Lerethiel swept forward to peck her son on the forehead, hair tickling across the king’s skin. “Be good my little leaflet. Do not cause problems for your Ada.”

  
When she had gone Thranduil looked down at his son who was looking expectant. Now what to do with you?

  
“Ada what’s this?” A chubby hand reached out across the desk top, snatching at a sheaf of parchment.

  
“Ah do not touch that.” Carefully he extracted the now slightly crumpled paper, smoothing it and setting it well away on the polished surface. It was a list of all the excavations and building projects yet to be completed on the cavernous palace. While it had been occupied for years, Thranduil feared the work would never be completed. Allowing Legolas to play with the plans certainly wouldn’t speed the process. “Here little one.” As gently as he could he lifted Legolas off his lap and onto the floor, where he immediately darted forward to pull at the low hanging fringe of a table runner.

  
Keeping one eye on the elfling, Thranduil hastily began to jot down a letter to the chief architect about enlarging the current plans for the excavation of the cellar. It had been Galion’s idea to enlarge them. Most of the time they would serve merely as wine cellars, however, in times of need they would be large enough to hold food to last the entire woodland realms months. Of course, the progression of the project all depended on if the current plans could be altered to include this new idea.

  
Crash!

  
Thranduil’s spun round, nearly toppling his chair. A startled, yet thankfully unharmed Legolas was starting at a pile of books, quills, and an overturned silver flower vase. In his momentary lapse of concentration Legolas had taken the opportunity to yank upon the table runner, bringing it and everything else on the table crashing down.

  
Looking at the mess Legolas’ lower lip trembled. Casting aside his letter Thranduil scooped up his son just as the little prince began to wail.

  
“Hush little leaf, you are not hurt.” It was quite true for the cascade of books had missed him completely. However, the shock of it all was clearly too much and Legolas’ cries only intensified. Cradled in his father’s arms the elfling buried his face in his father’ hair. Gently the king stroked Legolas’ silver-gold hair, the same color as his own and of his father before him.

  
Legolas did not move, but his tears seemed to abate.

  
“Don’t cry little one.”

 

Two blue eyes peeked up from the now sopping front of Thranduil’s robes. “I’m sorry Ada.”

  
“There is no need for that.” In truth the prince had made quite a mess, but Thranduil had no doubt that Galion would manage it well enough. However, one thing was certain: the king would be getting no more work done this evening. “Come Legolas, how about we take a walk together in the woods? I will tell you stories of the first age.”

  
All the distress seemed to vanish from Legolas’ face. “Can we?”

  
“Of course.”

  
They left the rather disheveled study then, Legolas still wrapped in his father’s arms and clinging to the front of his robes. It was not yet late but the halls were mostly empty. Despite being only early springtime the weather of late had been mild and at such times many of the people of the woodland realm still dwelt in impromptu camps beneath the trees.

  
Thranduil had promised a walk in the forest but first they went to the kitchen, to get a sweet roll for Legolas. If the cooks were surprised to see their prince and king they did not show it and Legolas squeaked excitedly as the head cook presented the sugary pastry.

  
“Do not eat it all at once my son, you will make yourself sick.” Of course the words were late, and already Legolas had crammed half of it into his mouth. Certainly if Lerethiel had been here she would have demanded Legolas stop immediately, but when it came to their son she was always the stricter one, and Thranduil was putty in his chubby toddler hands.

  
They then begged their leave of the cooks and took the broad sweeping staircases that led upwards towards the great gates of the woodland halls. As they approached the great carved wooden doors two guards stepped forward out of the shadows. For a moment they made as if to halt their progress, but upon seeing their king and prince they bowed their heads and glided backwards into the deep shadows on either side of the door.

  
The woods beyond were just falling under the shadow of twilight, illuminated in a dim half-light as the first stars peeked out between the leafy canopy.

  
Legolas squirmed and Thranduil set him down on the ground where he might explore the leaf strewn forest floor.  
“Do not go too far, the woods are not safe even for their prince.”

  
The wandered together in the growing twilight beneath the trees. Near to the elven halls the trees grew proud and straight, but farther into the woods they were gnarled and bent with great beards of moss trailing from their bows. Soon even the bright could not be seen, and the thick leaves plunged the forest into darkness. Had it not been for his keen elven eye sight and overall familiarity with the forest Thranduil might have lead them astray. But he knew this path well.

  
Legolas clung to the hem of his father’s robes, occasionally breaking away to inspect a pretty leaf or twisted branch. He never strayed too far though, and if he did a simple word was enough to call him back to the safety of his father’s shadow. Finally when his little legs grew tired, Thranduil lifted him up once more and hummed a song as his son dozed.

  
They reached the clearing just as the moon was rising, the bald head of one of so many hills that rolled unseen under the carpet of trees. Pale starlight, and a glint from the sliver of moon illuminated the ground in silver light.

  
Thranduil set Legolas in the grass, and settled beside him as the boy rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  
“Ada where are we?”

  
“A very special place. Once upon a time we celebrated Harvest Festival here, and sometimes the Nandor still come to watch the stars.” It was here that he and Lerethiel had first joined in their now decades long marriage. The grass was perhaps not as green as it had been then, with no flowers growing in it, and the bower where they had spent their first night as man and wife had long ago crumbled to nothing, but the hill itself and the shape of the forest beyond it had not changed.

  
Legolas sat silent for a long while, perhaps digesting the information.

  
“What is that?” He finally asked. Thranduil followed the line of his son’s finger, pointing to the brightest star.

  
“It is Earendil’s star.”

  
“What makes it so much brighter than the other stars?”

  
“A Silmaril, a jewel of pure light.”

 

Legolas brow furrowed in puzzlement, “How did it get in the sky?”

  
From the yearning in his voice Thranduil could tell that a simple answer was not what his son was after, he would want to know just how the star had come to be. “A very brave man put it there little leaf. But that is a very long, sad story and I do not think your mother would forgive me for telling it to you now. Perhaps when you are older.”

  
“But I want to know.”

  
“Hush, that’s a tale for another time. How about instead I will tell you the story of Beren and Luthien?”

  
Legolas snuggled into the warmth of Thranduil’s robes as he began the tale. “Once, many, many years ago there was a very beautiful princess. Her name was Luthien. Her mother was Melian the Maia and her father was Elu Thingol who ruled over all Doriath since before the sun and moon rose in the sky.”

  
“Where is Doriath?”

  
“The greatest forest in the first age, of which all others are but echoes. Powerful magic kept it green and beautiful untouched by any mar.” At the words Thranduil could not help but remember the tall proud trees of Doriath, strung with golden lights before all had come to ruin. “Luthien lived there with all her people and was known as the most beautiful of the first born…”  
He spoke of Luthien dancing beneath the trees and of the coming of Beren. Of the quest for the Silmaril he left out many of the horrors, lest they give Legolas nightmares, and instead embellished the defeat of Celegorm and Curfin at the hands of the Lovers and how they had crept into Angband to cut the jewel from the crown of Morgoth. He recounted how at last when Beren had fallen and through her love Luthien brought him back.

  
“…but to bring back her beloved Luthien had to pay a great price. The life of the eldar left her and though she and Beren would share many years together they eventually passed from this world as humans do. But so great was there love that though they are gone now we still remember them in many a song and tale.”

  
Legolas let out a little huff and Thranduil realized he had fallen asleep, little chest rising and falling. Reaching down Thranduil stroked his hair and looked up at the stars.

  
His heart ached. Speaking of Doriath had called to his mind all that had once been, and all his kindred had lost when the sons of Feanor had sacked their home. He had been young then but he could still remember the graceful caverns of Menegroth of which his own halls were but a pale imitation, and how they had filled with the stench of smoke and blood when death had finally fallen upon them.

  
He felt rather that heard Lerethiel’s approach, creeping silently up the crest of the hill.

  
“You are back.” His voice was quiet, though whether from grief or a desire not to wake Legolas he was not sure.

  
“I am back.” She settled beside him in the grass so that Legolas lay between them and one of her arms was twined about his shoulders. She smelled like pine needles, earth, and something sweet, a flower he could not quite identify. For a long time they watched the stars. At length she asked, “Why are you sad my love?”

  
He knew any attempt to lie would not pass her scrutiny. He told the truth. “I was thinking of my home. I miss it.”

  
Gently she leaned her head upon his shoulder, dark hair falling about them in a cascade. “This is your home now.”  
Together, with Legolas sleeping between them they watched the moon climb high in the sky, and they descend back towards the horizon.


End file.
